Second Time Around - Prologue
by C-Man
Summary: After a tragedy, the Powers That Be make Xander an offer he can't refuse... Two-chapter prologue of a series of several parts. B/X
1. Just My Luck

Title: Second Time Around - Prologue

Author: C-Man

Disclaimer: You can't sue me, I'm broke! Ha! But I still don't own these characters. In fact, I stole the story concept too, so I own nothing!

Rating: PG-13, I think

Summary: After a tragedy, the Powers That Be make Xander an offer he can't refuse...

Spoilers: I wrote this before the season-ending Six-Pack (of episodes), and therefore nothing that happened in them happened in my story. And Joyce is still alive because I was in denial at the time.

Distribution: Hey, get your grubby hands away from my fic!!! Actually, I could care less. Want? Take. Have.

Feedback: Absolutely. It's like a drug. umrohrig@cc.umanitoba.ca

Notes: This was my first try at BtVS writing. It gets better, though, don't worry. :-)

... - thoughts

* * * * * - time passes  
  


  
  


**_Chapter I - Just My Luck_**_  
  
_

  
  


_August 3, 2001_

_10:45 PM_

_Sunnydale, CA_  
  


  
  


Damn Hellmouth. That's what it is. It's probably responsible for the fact that I've never been happy for any extended period of time in my entire life. Maybe it's a curse. Yeah, that makes sense. My family has lived in Sunnydale for four generations, and I've been cursed for my ancestors' stupidity for staying in this hell hole for that long. Because there's no way that a normal person's luck can suck this much.

It's been a few months since we faced off against Glory in the final battle. I've survived a lot of wicked fights - against the horde of vampires the night the Master rose, leading the attack against Mayor-snake, fighting Adam as a quarter of the enjoining spell cast last year. But the fight against Glory redefined the word 'chaos.' The fact that I lived through that night just makes my current predicament that much more tragically ironic. Anyway, after we sent Glory back to her demon dimension and locked the door behind her, it was time to sit back and relax, and wait for the next threat to the world to emerge.

For me, though, it was a time to mope. Before we went into the fight against Glory, we all knew the odds were heavily stacked against us. Anya didn't want to go with us, saying it was suicidal. She also told me not to go, but I told her I'd never turn my back on my friends. Anya would not take no for an answer, though, and gave me an ultimatum: her or my friends. I had no choice. I walked away.

When we got back from the fight, battered and bruised, I found a note from Anya. She said she'd stolen D'Hoffryn's medallion from Willow and demanded her powers back, and, seeing her anger at being scorned again, the demon lord agreed. Apparently, she didn't expect us to save the world this time, and she needed to get gone ASAP. Fortunately, Anya promised in her letter she would not take vengeance on me if we did survive. It was small consolation.

So, I brooded (yes, that's right, I went all 'Deadboy' and moped in the dark) for a few weeks in my apartment, with my friends visiting frequently. They all made me feel a bit better (except for Spike, who dropped by once to mooch off me), especially Buffy, who could empathize most with me. After all, she'd been the victim of an unfair ultimatum before, and I helped her out with that. So now, she returned the favor.

Buffy and I had gotten a lot closer since Riley had left and Spike had professed his 'love' for her. She'd needed reassurance that she was not doomed to have bad relationships with all men. So, I did my best to cheer her up, and something started stirring in the bottom of my heart. Those long buried feelings for my best friend were waking up again.

Anya leaving only brought them back to the surface, and by the time I'd recovered from the loss of my girlfriend, I was back to heavy-duty Buffy-pining. Only this time, there was no Angel, no Riley, no one she confessed to having a thing for. I thought I might have a chance this time. We got back into our old routine of me bombarding her with sexual innuendoes, and her wittily brushing them off. Except, as time went on, her comebacks became rather weak, and sometimes she just gave me that cute half-smile of hers and changed the subject.

I didn't know at the time if she was giving me signals or not, but, yesterday, I finally sucked it up and asked her out. I braced myself for the 'I love you as a friend' rejection, and nearly fell off my chair when she smirked and said, "About time, Xan," and launched herself at me, catching me in a passionate and demanding kiss. I immediately felt light headed as the blood quickly left my brain, for, uh, other parts, and I kissed her back with all the pent-up longing I'd stored up for five and a half years.

Buffy was straddling me by this time and began to writhe against me. She moaned into my mouth, which just turned me on even more as I pulled her even closer to me. When oxygen deprivation became an issue and we broke apart, panting, I saw the almost wanton desire plainly written in her deep blue-green eyes, and it must have been mirrored in mine. We just stared at each other for a few moments, both of us getting our raging hormones under control. Neither of us just wanted to jump to the sex before actually starting a relationship, so we grudgingly separated. I offered to pick her up at seven the next day for 'dinner and dancing.' Cliched, I know, but there's a reason why it's a classic.

Tonight was the night, Buffy and I's first date. I pulled up to her house at seven on the dot, and jogged up to her front door. Dawn opened the door when I knocked my familiar 'happy knock,' casting me an appreciative glance. Yup, that's me, Xander Harris, with all the Summers women wrapped around my little finger. I waited downstairs with a single red rose for my date, trying not to fidget. I could barely contain my excitement ... and nervousness. I was terrified that I wouldn't live up to her expectations or she'd try to back out at the last minute. My fears were put to rest when Buffy descended her stairs in a simple but ravishing, tight black dress, and, after accepting my flower, looked dreamily up at me and kissed me soundly on the lips. I had to fight the urge to deepen the kiss, and we broke apart after a bit, blushing slightly when we noticed Dawn and Joyce still in the room.

Then we left, and I had the best date of my life. On paper, it was nothing spectacular - just dinner at some fancy restaurant, followed by fun and games at the Bronze - but the fact it was with Buffy really upped the good-ness factor. I found out over dinner that she'd been seeing me as more than her 'Xander-shaped friend' for a month and a half, but was afraid to admit it. _She_ was afraid!? Buffy had never been afraid to confess her feelings to anyone. What was so special about me? My heart screamed that it was love that made her so nervous, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. So, dinner was eaten in silence, and I'd occasionally gaze over at Buffy until she noticed, then I'd avert my eyes. I even caught her staring at me a couple times, which was ... interesting.

Anyway, after the restaurant it was off to the Bronze, where we spent most of our time dancing. She laughed at my spastic moves, like usual, but when a slow song came on, we didn't leave the dance floor for our usual table. Instead, Buffy walked up to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest, while I hesitantly held her by the waist. I don't know how long we stayed like that just slowly moving together - I was too lost in utter contentment. Her heavenly scent, her body molded against mine like she belonged there, and the peaceful look on her gently smiling face made me fall in love with her all over again. Geez, thinking about Buffy just brings out the romantic fool in me doesn't it? 

After our blissful dance ended, we decided to call it a night. I drove Buffy home, and we shared a tender kiss on her front porch. When we separated, I saw her beautiful eyes twinkling with happiness, and I decided to go for broke. I said the three words I had longed to say to her since the day I'd met her. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when she said them back with no hesitation, and I felt like crying out in joy. I settled for pulling her to me and kissing her without inhibition, trying to pour every ounce of myself into it, like she had the day before. And that was it. The perfect end to the perfect date.

That was five minutes ago. As I practically skipped back to my car, the dark shadow behind a tree in Buffy's front yard went unnoticed. I was about to open my driver's side door when I was jerked away and landed on the ground. I looked up and saw a familiar platinum blond form standing over me, scowling. I guess Spike was still in his 'stalking Buffy' phase, and I was about to insult the irritating vampire, when fear seized hold of me. Spike had just tried to hurt me, but the chip in his head hadn't sent a searing pain through his skull. He smirked down at me, and before I could react, yanked me to my feet, pinning my arms to my sides

An instant later, his game face was on and he sank his fangs into my neck. I yelled out as loud as I could, hoping Buffy would hear me in her house and come out to save me. It was futile. My blood steadily drained out of me, and I could feel my body growing cold, and my cries grew silent. Finally, Spike dropped me bonelessly to the ground and licked his bloody lips in triumph.

I heard an anguished shriek from Buffy's front porch, and I realized she had heard me, just a bit too late. Spike quickly retreated out of sight and through my bleary eyes I saw my love kneeling over me, Buffy's face contorted into a mask of agony as her tears flowed. I tried to say something dramatic or funny, but I didn't even have the strength the open my mouth. She took me in her arms and rocked me back and forth, telling me she loved me over and over. Then everything faded to black and I could no longer hear her tearful pleas for me to live. 

So, here I am. I don't know where here is, just that I'm dead. My reputation as Fate's Bitch is preserved for all time now. I died on the same night I won the heart of the woman of my dreams. I'd be laughing at the irony if I wasn't grieving at the tragedy. Damn Hellmouth.  
  


  
  


End I


	2. Second Chance?

See previous part for Disclaimer et. al.****

  
  


**Chapter II - Second Chance?**

  
  


Xander was confused. He'd been dead for a few hours as far as he could tell. But nothing had changed in his environment. There was no tunnel with a light at the end; as far as he could see it was bright white. There wasn't even any ground visible, but he was standing on something solid. Where was Saint Peter ushering him in through the Pearly Gates? Didn't I help save the world enough times to qualify for my wings?

His musings were interrupted by a voice from behind him. "Hey, kid, sorry I'm late. The traffic was murder." Xander spun to see quite possibly the worst dressed man he'd ever seen smirking at him. He looked like a pimp. Hawaiian shirt, a gaudy fedora on his head and leather pants.

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?" Xander demanded without preamble.

"Geez, right to the point, huh? Guess dying can change a guy," the pimp-guy said. Xander stalked over and got right in his face.

"I'm having a very bad day. Not really in the mood for chit-chat. You're gonna answer my questions, or I'm gonna bury my foot in your ass!" he hissed out.

The man sighed melodramatically, "Are you finished?" And before he could react, Xander's fist shot out and knocked him on his ass. "All right, already. Y'know, no one in your little group has any patience," he said as he got to his feet, rubbing his face where he'd been hit. Before Xander could demand answers again, the man cut him off. "The name's Whistler, kid. Ring a bell?"

Xander's eyes narrowed as he thought for a second. "You're the one who sent Deadboy to Sunnydale to help Buffy. Thanks for that," he scoffed.

Whistler rolled his eyes and groaned. "Don't remind me. I sent the schmuck to help the Slayer defeat the Master, not start some big star crossed romance with her. The PTB are still pissed at me over that whole mess."

Xander waited impatiently for Whistler to finish his tirade. "Uh-huh, interesting. Why are you here? And where is 'here'?" he said gesturing to the bright emptiness surrounding them.

"Well, 'here' is someplace between worlds where the Powers That Be plunked you down while they decided your fate. Me, I'm here to carry out their decision."

"So, which is it, then? The Pearly Gates or the Big Fiery Pit?"

The smirk on Whistler's face grew. "Neither."

"Oh, great. So, what, I'm stuck in In-Between Land for eternity?"

"Nope."  
Xander exploded. "Quite the cryptic crap! You know how much I hate guys like that, so just get to the point!!"

"You're going back." 

Xander stood in stunned silence, while his mind caught up with what Whistler was saying. "You're sending me back to earth?" he couldn't keep the hopeful note out of his voice. "Back to ..." he trailed off before saying her name. "I'll do anything. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Whistler's grin started to disappear. "It's not that simple kid. The PTB don't just hand out second chances for nothing. You'll have to earn it. Just like Angel and him getting his humanity back sometime in the future."

Xander was confused, again. "So, what, you want me to be a superhero? 'Help the helpless?'" he asked. "Cuz I'm just Normal-Guy, y'know, not much use when the going gets tough."

"Well, you're not that useless, but no, you're not getting superpowers. It's just that your death is going to start a chain of events that will play hell with the Balance."

"The Balance?" Xander queried.

"Between Good and Evil, kid. See, reality is only stable as long as there is an acceptable balance between the forces of Good and Evil in the world. I'm a Balance Demon, and it's my job to maintain that balance, or else the world goes to hell in a handbasket, literally."

"So, where do I fit into your grand scheme?"

"We need you to change some things, so that the future doesn't look so bleak for the Good side."

"Change things? How?"

"Obviously, we can't send you back to the moment you died, since your body is a dead shell. So we have to send you back to your body in the past," Whistler emphasized.

"When?" Xander asked succinctly, still reeling from the previous revelations.

"Sunday, January 5th, 1997."

Xander's mouth dropped open. "That's almost five years ago! That's-" Realization hit him. "That's the day before I met Buffy."

"Bingo!" Whistler said enthusiastically and clapped his hands together once. "You're ideally placed to correct past mistakes, and especially to avert a few of the Good side's worst tragedies of the last decade," he held up one finger. "One, Angel losing his soul when he and Buffy got horizontal," another finger went up. "Two, Faith's turn to the dark side, and her living behind bars now," a third finger. "And three," Whistler paused and braced himself for an outburst from the frayed-around-the-edges young man before him, "Buffy getting turned into a vampire by Spike."

"What!!? Spike never turned Buffy!" Xander exclaimed, shocked.

"He will. The day after your death."

Xander regarded the balance demon suspiciously. "I don't believe you." he stated.

Whistler sighed deeply. "Didn't think ya would. So, I guess I'll have to show ya."  
"Show me what?"

Whistler smiled enigmatically. "The future." And then he reached out and grabbed Xander's head in his hands. Xander's eyes rolled up in his head as he was treated to a horrid vision of things to come.

  
  


*~*~*

  
  


Xander saw the interior of a crypt; he recognized it as the one Spike had called home for the past year or so. The door burst open and a red faced Buffy Summers charged in, brandishing a crossbow, with a few stakes strapped to her belt. She swung her crossbow around the crypt, searching for her target. Xander assumed it was Spike, and Buffy was there to finally put the recently-dechipped vampire in the ground.

Xander couldn't hear any sounds, but when he saw Buffy wince and her free hand fly to her side, Xander just knew what had happened. He was proven right when the Slayer pulled a tranquilizer dart out of her side. She legs almost immediately started wobbling, and she fell to her knees after a few seconds. The crossbow fell from her hand and she fell forward flat on her face. A sense of utter dread filled Xander as a bleached blond figure stepped out of the shadows of the crypt, a small handgun held at his side.

Spike threw the gun to the side and picked up the temporarily paralyzed Slayer, carrying her to the concrete coffin that was the centerpiece of his dank home. He set her down gently, and brushed her hair out of her face as he spoke to her. No doubt telling her they'd be together for eternity, or something similarly nauseating, Xander thought. Buffy was barely conscious, and the paralyzing agent was probably making facial expressions impossible, as the lack of a look of revulsion of her face proved. She couldn't even flinch when Spike bent down and bit into the side of her neck.

Xander watched in agony as Buffy's face grew pale, and her eyes became unfocused and glossy. Once Spike had drunk his fill, he bit into his wrist, and held it to the dying Slayer's mouth. Her gag reflex had gone with the rest of her motor functions, and the vampire's blood flowed freely down her throat. After about thirty seconds, the wound on Spike's wrist had healed up, and he brought his hand over her face, closing her eyelids over her unblinking eyes. There was a flash of light and Xander suddenly was outside the Summers' house.

Xander saw several cars parked by the curb, and guessed that the Scoobies had gathered to mourn his death, and wait for Buffy to return. He was only marginally surprised to in fact see Buffy stumbling up her steps. Or rather, the demon that had recently come to inhabit her body. The new vampire had cuts and bruises on her face, likely put there to garner sympathy from her former family and friends. She pounded on the front door, which opened seconds later to reveal and red eyed Joyce Summers. A series of emotions flashed over the eldest Summers face; relief at her daughter's return, concern at her bedraggled appearance, and above all a healthy dollop of grief at the tragedy that was her daughter's life.

Xander watched in horror as Buffy stepped over the threshold with her mother's help. Apparently some form of invitation had been given in Joyce's worried greeting. The light flashed again and Xander then stood at the entrance to the Summer's living room. He was between Joyce helping Buffy through the door and the rest of his friends standing expectantly in the living room. They were all there, Xander saw. Willow nearly catatonic in grief, being comforted by Tara. Dawn was clutching tightly to Giles' hand as she wiped some stray tears from her eyes. Even Angel was there, presumably having driven in from LA to console his former lover. Cordelia was sitting on the couch with Wesley, and she was also rubbing tears off her face.

A feeling of certain doom filled Xander as Buffy was led into the living room by her mother. He saw Angel's eyes go wide and his mouth drop open as his vampiric senses picked up Buffy's 'change' before anyone else. Before he could react, however, Buffy had pushed her mother away and leapt forward, leading with a stake. She plunged it into his chest and then he was no more. The room looked on in shock and a cruel grin, totally unsuited to her delicate features, stretched over her face. Then her demonic visage appeared, and the grin fit in perfectly.

Buffy shouted something, and a few seconds later Spike walked casually in through the front door. He stepped over Mrs. Summers body on his way into the room. The older woman had fainted dead away at the sight of her turned daughter. Giles was the first to break out of the collective trance that had befallen the humans in the room. He charged blindly at Spike, lashing out with a wild, rage-fueled punch. Spike calmly sidestepped the Watcher and grabbed him by the neck. If Xander could have heard sounds, a sharp snap would have been resonated through the room as Rupert Giles' neck was broken, in a manner sickeningly reminiscent of the fate that his former girlfriend had suffered.

On the other side of the room, meanwhile, Wesley and Cordelia had jumped up and had drawn weapons. The smart people in Sunnydale always kept a stake and/or cross on their person at night. Buffy laughed mockingly at them as they advanced toward her. Cordelia shoved a cross at Buffy but the Slayer-Vamp didn't flinch. She casually batted it out of the seer's hands as Wesley tried to jam a stake home. Buffy effortlessly caught the former Watcher's arm in mid-swing and swiftly redirected the stake into his own chest. Wesley coughed up blood and fell to the ground and was soon joined by Cordelia, who'd had her throat ripped open by the ex-Slayer's now-taloned hands.

Spike, meanwhile had fed on an unresisting Tara while holding Willow up by the neck. The blonde witch fell dead to the floor, and Spike hurled Willow at Buffy's feet. Xander watched as the vampire in his blond former girlfriend's body dragged his best friend to her feet, and viciously bit into the red head's neck. Tears fell from Willow's eyes as she was exsanguinated by her former best friend.

If it was possible, Xander would have lost his lunch at the sight of the carnage surrounding him. But he couldn't even move, no matter how much he wanted to flee this den of horrors where he'd witnessed the murders of everyone he loved in the world. He couldn't close his eyes, because he this was in his mind's eye, which never even blinked. Instead, he had to watch Buffy and Spike kiss fiercely, tasting the blood of the witches in each other's mouths. When they finally separated, they cackled evilly, and gathered up the passed out bodies of Dawn and Joyce. Xander tried not to contemplate where the two vampires were taking the surviving Summers women. Thankfully, he didn't have to, as a light flashed, and he felt his corporeal body again.

  
  


*~*~*

  
  


When the vision ended, Xander collapsed out of Whistler's grasp. The scene in the Summers' living room was still fresh in his mind, and he fell to his knees, dry heaving. Whistler took a step back and let the young man collect himself.

"Ya see what I mean by your death screwing up the Balance, now? You just witnessed the destruction of humanity's last line of defense against the baddies that wanna rule over the Hellmouth. Angel'll never get to fulfill his destiny and save the world, and, worse, no more Slayers are gonna be called until Faith dies."

Xander looked up in shock. "What? How's that? 'When one dies another is called.' It's the rule!"  
"Lemme ask you a question, kid. How do you think Angel was brought out of hell?"

Xander thought about that, searching his memory for the explanation. "That-that 'First Evil' thing that was in Jenny's body. It brought him back so he would kill Buffy."

"Eeeeihn!" Whistler buzzed. "Wrong answer. That was just the First trying to take advantage of the situation. The real reason behind Angel's return from the Big Fiery Pit was a deal that the Powers made with the First. Angel was let out of hell in exchange for a return to the way things were before you brought Buffy back from the dead. Y'know, the Chosen *One*? So, Faith's the 'one girl in all the world' now-" Whistler continued, but was then cut off by Xander.

"But she's wasting away in prison," he finished.

"Got it in one, kid," the demon said, smiling. "The Council'll try and take out Faith, but she's in a max security joint, and those guys have trouble shooting fish in a barrel. So, the forces of good'll be gutted, and the next big bad to visit Sunnyhell will have free reign to end the world."

Xander took all that in. He recalled how Buffy had told him that Whistler was the one who had told her how to save the world when Acathla was awakened. There was no real reason to believe that the demon was lying to him now. There was no choice now in Xander's mind. If he didn't accept the mission, everyone he loved would die, and the world could end.

He chuckled dryly. "So, I've gotta save the world, huh?" Taking a deep breath, Xander continued. "All right, let's go Back to the Future, Doc."

"Hold up there, Michael J.," Whistler said with a chuckle. "This isn't a risk free venture here. If you screw up, or fail to prevent any of those three tragedies I mentioned, you'll pay for it. As in, when ya die the second time around, you'll be spending eternity getting poked with pitchforks by guys in red pajamas. Get my drift?" Whistler paused to let that sink in. "So. Are you sure you want to go back?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Whistler smiled again. "I thought you'd say that." With that, the demon snapped his fingers, and Xander's world again went black.

  
  


End II


End file.
